Findings of Mimicry
by Good Evening
Summary: Ichiru-centred. Joined in the Epilouge series. Ichiru and Death get into a snit over whether or not those who disappear can be revisited. Harue gets his hopes up for a good reason and Ichiru naturally suffers from the loss of his other half. ZeKa elements


I wonder if I'm just a naturally guilty person... I also wonder if I'm stupid and if people will ever forgive me for being such, but oh well.

Huh... it seems so barren up here. Like the space is just waiting to be filled. In any case, I'm feeling bad for the fact that this was only around 2,300 words, and so I'm trying to think of ways to fool the system into thinking the actualy story is longer. Probably shouldn't have written that, though, if I wanted to be on the sly... Eh, well. Loyalty to the readers and the system. Cheers.

**Findings of Mimickery,**

an Author's Ichiru-Loving Afterthoughts

Not quite used to doing titles, either. Huh...

* * *

The sun was beginning to go down, and the late afternoon cast gold on everything. Ichiru was slouched slightly in a chair, rosy round glasses bumping the rim of his teacup when he took a sip. He relaxed into his hard chair, enjoying, after about eighteen years under, the steam as it flickered strongly the scents of oranges and leaves across his nose. It had taken a long time to feel things like he did, but he was certainly glad he'd taken the time to practice, as well as kept the patience to deal with the dunces who had. He was out on the terrace, sitting at a small wooden table, closing his eyes every now and then as he relished the warmth of sunlight. The curtains waved voluptuously in the window, the doors always open just for him. He clacked his fingernails against the table rhythmically, grinding the grooves as he scratched, waiting for his company.

He set his cup down and got up, dusting himself as he listened to little feet pad across a hallway carpet, "Ichiru!" Harue said excitedly. The man dropped by only rarely since he and Death had gotten in a fight. He said he'd found a way to get to his brother, and Death argued that because even he couldn't get to the men, certainly a youngster like the twin couldn't do it.

"Harue. How do you do?" he shook the boy's hand, reminding him to be a big boy. Harue did so enthusiastically, pumping his elder's hand roughly, until Ichiru pulled away, holding it for a moment. Death came sauntering in shortly.

"Good evening Harue, Ichiru." He said with effort. Just because he had to be neutral with on-site work didn't mean he couldn't argue the same as any other sucker off the job. Ichiru had taught him fairly well how to get a point across and hold his own without completely exploding, in worse company. "I trust you're both doing well?" Ichiru nodded and watched him from the horizon of his cup, eyeing him distrustfully. Harue was trying very hard not become too irritated with their little (two-year) squabble. It would just be the three of them; Yuki never joined because frankly, she couldn't see them. She didn't like to ask why her son did this; she thought it was because of his father's death when he was so young, not that she thought he couldn't see spectres. It just seemed the most likely. What little boy got to host Death and one of the most experienced dead men out there?

The boy looked around to make sure his mother wasn't there, "So, Ichiru," he played idly with the handle of his cup, "did you find anything on my father and you brother?" Ichiru smiled and leaned back like a cat, hands folded over his chest pompously as Death blustered,

"Absurd,"

"Oh, you know I'm right, don't you?" Death very nearly slammed his cup on the table,

"Stop filling the boy's head with these lies. It's better to let the dead rest…" Ichiru raised an eyebrow to quell his anger,

"And haven't we already broken that little guideline?" He sipped his tea innocently as Death hid his reddened face. He turned to Harue, who was fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair, which was comically large for him. His dark hair shone in the sunlight; blue-violet eyes glittering,

"If there's anything I can do to help…" Death threw his arms up in defeat and Ichiru skilfully flipped his flask at the man. The whiskey bubbled in the cup as he poured it rapidly and took a long, strong drink. The light-haired man was more than satisfied, still leaning back proudly.

"I'm very glad you're willing to help, Harue." He looked pointedly at the boy, a shimmer behind his glasses, "because I've indeed found them." Harue bounced from his chair, knocking it over. He was so much like his mother…

"Really?! When can we see them?!" Ichiru smiled,

"Soon," he said, looking to Death, now, "I just need a little help getting there," the other man grimaced as he sipped his tea, and Ichiru clicked his tongue, "Harue, dear, would you mind getting more sugar?" The dish was almost empty, and the little boy was stunned for a second that the subject had been broken,

"Oh, sure," he said confusedly, and took the little platter and walked back into the house. Ichiru's posture changed and he furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. Death watched him warily, never quite sure if the man was going to laugh or try and kill something, and settled a little further into his wire chair, wincing when a rogue spike hit his lower back. He scooted up, tense in the silence and trying to survive as comfortably as possible when the bomb dropped and he either gloated or was out about $60. But the next time he glanced at the twin, he was struck completely speechless for a moment. Just then, the man snapped out of his little reverie, still in the pose of "The Thinker", and looking straight at the brunette. When, Death asked, quite bluntly,

"You have no idea, do you?" Ichiru shook his head in tiny swipes to the left and right, never taking his eyes off his cup. He seemed crazy, the look in his eyes suggesting he hadn't slept in ages. Not that he needed to; strange things happen to the dead as their outlooks and emotions change, and they do change. But not without something very, very brutal or fantastic happening.

"I know exactly what happens." The wind was absolutely dead, and the curtains stood eerily still. Harue hadn't come back yet, and the sunlight was no longer warm. Death's mouth felt a little dry, and he drank again, emptying his cup and grimacing again when he saw there was no sugar for a second serving. He confronted Ichiru, guarded and on edge,

"So—what happens?" Ichiru's expression hadn't changed from the moment his smile shrivelled up and died. The dust floated like gold flakes in the sunlight, and the evening sank into night without time bothering to pass. Ichiru sighed and Death almost jumped out of his chair in shock. The twin gave him a curious look as he slowly reached for the pot, pouring them more tea,

"I found out we die." He said in a simple monotone, looking through everything. The brunette didn't know what to make of it,

"Well, we're very dead, all of us, already,"

"Every single one," the man remarked. Death was a little uncomfortable,

"There's nothing other than this. It's… an abyss. No matter how far you go, you won't find anything else. How can there be another place to… go… to." Ichiru was looking at him in a way summarised by 'you idiot,' so he shut up indignantly. After a few moments of silence the younger man, seeing if the paper pusher was going to milk it any more, spoke again,

"There isn't anything else. You're right," he set his cup down, and waved his arm back and forth, "this is it. Beyond this there is… well, there's nothing beyond this but this, so I really can't go into that, but there doesn't have to be anything else." Death was a little miffed,

"Well then, where the Hell do all those sighing lovers go?!" he caught his moment of anger, and folded in a bit, embarrassed by his outburst. Ichiru almost had enough energy in him to laugh.

"Nowhere. Haven't you been listening? They just 'cease'. Yes, that's what I'll call it," he stroked his chin thoughtfully, Death looking lost, "'Ceasing'. A pretty ring to it, I think." He took a brief drink, and sighed, looking at the man across from him, "The way I see it, we have two chances:" he counted them off with his fingers, "the one where we live, and then this. This, right here, is the ultimate chance, because there's almost no end in sight. You can stay here in this godforsaken limbo as long as you want. But when you're done with this, you 'Cease'. You stop being 'around'. No more parties, no more stalking anyone who's still alive—you're. Dead. Absolutely." Death nodded a bit,

"I'm not following, but you think because you can't sense them, they don't exist, right?"

"Well, what else have we got? What do you think you'll get beyond this?" He started chuckling, "You didn't think you get this job for good, did you? I'm sure if you looked, your lady or kid or whatever is out there. I know the stories behind all the suits, and damn if they're not a dime a dozen." The other man puffed up and looked like he was going to explode. Ichiru held up his hands in surrender, but still asked for him to listen, "My brother is gone. Harue's dad is gone. Lady Shizuka is gone. Nobody who dies comes back, and nobody who Ceases ever comes back. They just… die again, I guess."

Death was incredibly sceptical, trying to take it all in, and failing quite miserably. Then, something clicked, "Well, why did you tell Harue he can see his dad?" Ichiru stared him straight on, "Your theory doesn't have much room for whatever you're planning…" his eyes were lively and vigilant, and compared to Death's confusion, made the squatter man seem subdued and stupid.

"There is one way that I know Harue will have a chance in seeing his dad again." A second or so later, and Death had pitched the table across the terrace, holding the taller man by his collar, but barely lofting his heels from the ground.

"If you dare touch that boy, I will make sure the rest of your time is as close to Hell as anyone will ever get." Ichiru seemed thoroughly unfazed, and when Harue waltzed back onto the landing, he immediately dropped the refreshed platter he was carrying and ran to break up the fight. The clang of the metal against stone sent Death's mind back to sobriety, and he slowly replaced the man he gripped, as per the little master's shrill orders.

"What were you two fighting about?!" He asked exasperatedly, cleaning up the spilt sugar and collecting those that hadn't touched the ground. Death watched distastefully as Ichiru fixed his shirt. The white of it contrasted classically with his black slacks and suspenders, the created effect being an aura profession and danger. When the strange man smiled with kind eyes at the boy he'd suggestively threatened, it was difficult for the other male to keep his temper in check.

"Just old battles: boring stuff for bored people." He glanced at the man, holding in his laughter at the seething glare the stocky man gave him.

"Why don't you tell me how I can see father, now?" The young boy said, righting the table and looking for the things that were meant to be on it. Some had tumbled over the edge, and he watched from the balcony as curious servants picked the bone china pot and cup shards from the lawn. Death's glare turned brutal,

"I don't think we should be talking about this while it's still just an idea," his cold looks were meant to chill the young man as much as possible, but he acted as if he didn't even know the other was watching him. Until he turned his head and stared with those bare, violet eyes. They bore into the brunette with concealed feelings of wretchedness and exhaustion. He felt depressed from only a glance, and quickly looked away.

"Harue," he addressed the boy lightly, "… I think he's right. It was unfair of me to share my thoughts with you before they were complete." The desolation and anger in the boy's eyes reflected Ichiru's last moments breathing, and he took them in with startling ease and familiarity. "I can imagine how much I've hurt you, and I can't possibly fathom an apology to right this misdeed." The look Harue gave him was purely bitter, and for a moment, the young man saw Kaname lingering in those hateful eyes. The collected and cool anger that broiled and froze at the same time swirled in their blue-violet depths. And in that anger, he also happened to see the disgust his brother had treated him with in his last days. When the boy calmly addressed him, he was prepared for whatever his punishment was to be.

"I think you should leave until my temper cools." So like his father and yet he didn't know it. Ichiru felt memories rush through his body, and his fingertips trembled with the plain loathing he'd once, and still felt for the twice-dead man. If Harue were to be like him, the man didn't think he could take it.

"I'll go then. Will you come?" He said to Death, who nodded, still unready to fully agree with him on any level. But as the twin looked back from the doors to the terrace, he saw the silhouette of an angry little boy against an entire vibrant sky, the orange light like fire on the horizon. And he thought suddenly that he couldn't begin to imagine how he would face this little prince once he grew up. Because if he ever again saw that passionate hatred swirling ravenously in the boy's eyes, he was sure he would break from the memory. And he never really wanted to revisit the man who had caused him so much pain.

But perhaps it should have been their abandoned kinship that frightened him the most. His brother had managed to fall for someone else to the point of never returning, all sprouting from pure hatred, and Ichiru was deadly serious when he thought he never again wanted to see such blazing passion mimicked so exactly in those beautiful, distressing eyes. The memory of the man he'd loved so deeply fogging his vision and turning that vision of vibrant danger and loathing into something colder and more damaging. He had barely resisted those eyes before, and he wasn't sure he could do it again.


End file.
